


the region of the summer stars

by thekardemomme



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Flirting, Florist Even, Friends to Lovers, Language of Flowers, M/M, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekardemomme/pseuds/thekardemomme
Summary: Someone keeps sending Isak flower bouquets and Even happens to work in a flower shop.





	the region of the summer stars

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: There is a real book titled The Language of Flowers, however it's not the one I'm referencing. I made up the one I'm referencing. 
> 
> The whole plot is from tarjeiandhenrik on tumblr, i just added some details :)
> 
> The title is from Walking In the Wind by 1d

The thing is, there's nothing truly remarkable about the boy who's just walked in. He's a rather ordinary teenager; long and lanky and blonde and on just the right side of puberty. And yet he's extraordinary, a ball of light and summertime and everything pure in the world, and Even couldn't look away if he tried. 

He clears his throat. “Good morning!” He says brightly, and the boy grins as he approaches the counter. The green in his eyes is captivating and Even can't help but smile even wider. “How can I help you? Are you looking for something specific or just browsing?”

“I have to get flowers, actually! The girl I'm getting them for, Vilde, loves flowers and today's her birthday, so, I figured I'd get them for her. She usually sleeps in really late so I'm trying to get these flowers to her before she wakes up.” He smiles again, and Even feels his heart melt despite the lingering disappointment that he's buying flowers for a girl. “She loves daffodils. Like, adores them. And she reminds me of a daffodil, sorta, like. She's just really bright and stuff. So do you have any daffodils?”

Even nods, pointing to the back corner where bouquets of yellow daffodils are displayed. “Right over there. They're fresh, too. You picked the right day to come,” he smiles, and Isak smiles back. The boy goes over to pick out a bouquet and then brings it to the counter for Even to ring up. “Vilde will love them,” he says, and his heart falls only a little as the boy visibly brightens. 

“I hope so.” He hands over some money and then leans against the counter. “Do you go to Nissen? I feel like I've seen you somewhere before,” he says, and Even blinks owlishly at him. This boy's is a face that Even knows he'd recognize, and right now he's drawing a blank. 

“No, I went to Bakka.” He bites his lip. “Maybe you know Elias Bakkoush? He has a sister that goes to Nissen, her name's Sara or–”

“Sana.”

“Yeah, Sana,” he nods, and the boy tilts his head in confusion. “Elias is one of my friends. I went to Bakka with him. Maybe you've seen me at their house or something before.”

“That's probably it.” The boy takes the bouquet, the plastic wrap crinkling in his fingers. Even can't help but wonder what it'd be like to lace his own fingers through the boy's, to hold his hand and swing them as they walked together. “My name's Isak, by the way.”

Isak. Even loves the name. “I'm Even.”

Isak smiles a silly looking smile, lopsided and bemused. “I know that already.” He points to the tag pinned right next to Even's heart, an ugly flower basket pendant with a silver name plate engraved with Even's name. Even can't help but blush. “So...” Isak says, like he's stalling and trying to continue their conversation, “uh, you know how flowers have different, like, meanings or whatever?”

Even nods. “Yeah, I've read a few books about it.” He points to the bookshelf in the staff break room, and Isak leans over the counter to peer into the dark closet-like room through the gap in the door. “Reading those botany and floriculture books helps the time pass on slow days. Which are basically everyday except Valentine's Day and Mother's Day.”

Isak laughs, a real laugh, and Even is hopelessly endeared. “I can imagine.” He licks his lips and Even's eyes are inevitably drawn to the dip of the boy's cupid's bow. He wonders if that cupid's bow is good to lick alcohol from during a make out session after too many vodka cranberries. “Anyways, I was wondering if you knew what daffodils mean.”

“I don't, actually.” He bites his lip and looks back at the staff room, before smiling at Isak. “If you want to find out, you can come around back and help me look in the books? The bell will ring if someone comes in. Which, who am I kidding, no one will.” He puts his key in the divider between the counter and the rest of the shop, and unlocks it before swinging it open so Isak can pass through. Isak does. 

Even switches on the lights in the staff room and puts some water in a vase for Isak's (Vilde's, he reminds himself harshly) daffodils to sit in while they search. Even pulls a couple floriculture books down and blows the dust off of them, handing one of the thicker ones to Isak. Isak looks like the type of boy who sits in the library with glasses pushed up to the bridge of his nose as his eyes scan passage after passage of research books, the type of boy who sets up camp in a back nook of a library and loses track of time in between the lines of a Voltaire satire or a Stephen King thriller. 

“I didn't know that yellow chrysanthemums meant neglected love and sorrow,” Isak says randomly after fifteen minutes of searching through the pages. Even looks up to meet Isak's eyes, and he looks really concerned. “I gave my mum some of these for her birthday last year. I should've given her the red ones, they mean love.” He looks genuinely discouraged, and Even can't help the small bud of fondness in his chest that blooms. 

“I don't think you have to worry about that. Yellow chrysanthemums are beautiful flowers and I'm sure your mum doesn't know the meaning behind it. Meanings aren't really relevant anyway, are they? People buy flowers for how they look, not for the deeper meaning behind them.”

Isak frowns. “Well, that's dumb. People should pay more attention. Beauty is only...petal deep.” Even laughs at the dumb joke and Isak looks overly proud of it. 

They continue searching, and Isak finally stumbles across it in one of the really old books, one that's in English. “This says that yellow daffodils are a lucky emblem of rebirth and new beginnings, and fortune for the future. Daffodils are supposed to ensure happiness, especially if given in a bouquet.” He smiles up at Even. “This is perfect for a birthday, then! Rebirth and future prosperity and all.”

“You have a knack for picking out flowers,” Even grins. “Maybe you should be the florist instead of me.”

“You better watch out, I'll come steal your job.” 

“My boss loves me.”

“What's more important, love or someone actually qualified to do the job?”

Even scoffs. “Please. I'm more than qualified to do this job. You probably have the worst green thumb of everyone in Oslo, if you even have a green thumb at all.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Your daffodils have already started wilting.” Isak jerks up to look at the flowers, glaring at Even upon the realization that the bouquet was still vibrantly blooming and definitely not at all wilted. 

“You're a dick.” He closes the book and hands it back, and Even starts to shelf them. “These have to be perfect for Vilde. It'll mean so much to her. I want her to have a good birthday, a great one. She deserves it.” There's a light in Isak's eyes when he's talking about Vilde that makes Even's chest tighten with loneliness. He doesn't remember the last time he was so fond of someone that just talking about them put him in a good mood. Vilde is a lucky girl, Even knows that much. He looks at the cover of the book Isak had found his daffodil meaning in. The Language of Flowers. He smooths his fingers over the top, wipes the dust that transferred from the cover to his fingers, and then puts the book on the shelf. 

“You know,” Even says, as Isak goes back to the other side of the counter and Even locks the divider in place again, “we should hang out sometime. You're good company.”

Isak grins. “Sure. I'll be sure to come by here more often with more flower questions. And we can hang out whenever you have free time.” He takes out his phone and asks for Even's number, punching in the digits and then locking his phone and sliding it in his back pocket. “See you around, Even. Thanks for helping me out.”

“You're welcome. I hope Vilde likes the flowers.”

—

“Can I ask you something?” Isak asks one day, weeks after they first met, while they're sharing some fries leftover from Even's lunch. Isak pretty much takes permanent residence behind the counter, though it's supposed to be an employee-only area. Even's boss had fallen in love with Isak and now he was free to come and go as he pleased, basically. Even was honestly shocked that Isak didn't have his own set of keys to the building.

“Sure.” Even takes inventory as Isak cleans the basket of fries. Isak lets out a groan of indignation as Even pushes Isak's dirty feet from where they'd been propped up on the counter. “Stop putting your feet up on the counter, Isak.”

“Ugh, whatever. Anyways, I was just wondering if you get many Nissen students in here. Or, like, many high schoolers.”

“Mm, sometimes. Mostly on Valentine's Day. Our normal clientele is funeral groups and wedding parties, though. Why?”

Isak sighs. “Someone's been sending me flowers. For, like, weeks. And I don't know who. Vilde keeps finding them on our doorstep.”

Even gulps, turning to the register as he counts the money in it. He hopes Isak doesn't read into the blush high on his cheeks or the ever so slight tremor in his voice as he says, “Are you sure they're flowers from here? We're hardly the only florist in Oslo.”

Even hadn't meant for the flowers to become, like, a _thing_. It had started with him just sending the flowers no one ever bought but that were too pretty to let wilt. He always paid, and then put in a card with some stupid message on it. It was quite pathetic, really, for Even to send flowers to a boy – a straight one, probably – who has a girlfriend. A girl who apparently lived with him, considering Isak had just said that Vilde had found bouquets on _their_ doorstep. And Even knew from the beginning that he was being really creepy and weird, and a little desperate, but he couldn't stop. He saw pretty flowers, thought of Isak, and somehow found himself setting up a delivery with the morning shift delivery woman the next day, to drop off some random bouquet with some sappy card on Isak's doorstep. 

The weirdest thing was the time that Even had gone over (he'd gone over plenty of times, that's how he knew where Isak lived – he wasn't a stalker or anything) and seen a bouquet of pink peonies sitting in a vase on the table by the couch. Isak hadn't said anything about them then, but Even knew those were his, those were the ones he'd sent. It'd made his heart swell when he saw that Isak had actually liked them enough to keep them. Although, in retrospect, he wonders if it was Vilde who chose to keep them. After all, Even had found out on the day he and Isak first met just how much Vilde loved flowers. 

“I don't. I was just wondering,” Isak sighs. “The one I got yesterday had a really pretty quote on it though. At least, I think it was a quote.”

It was a quote. One from one of Even's favorite films. “Oh? What did it say?”

“When you realize that you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

Even chances a look over his shoulder. Isak isn't looking at him, so Even glances back down at the cash register. “When Harry Met Sally,” he says quietly. “That's a quote from When Harry Met Sally. He comes to her on New Year's Eve and says that to her. I love that film.”

“You do?”

Even nods, and closes the register. He turns to look at Isak, leaning back against the counter with a small smile. “It's a good film. You should watch it sometime.”

“The last time you said that, I had to sit through torture.”

“Strictly Ballroom is not torture,” Even says, rolling his eyes. “You just can't appreciate a good film because you've been brainwashed into thinking 50 First Dates is a romance film.”

“Hey, don't shit on that film!”

“Point proven.” The bell above the door rings and Even spins around to greet whoever it is. He's never met Vilde before, but he's seen her in photos, and he knows that it's her when he sees her. 

She approaches the counter, smiling widely and tugging on her fluffy pink sweater. She's adorable, Even notes. She's cuter in person than Even had expected her to be. She's beautiful, and she looks like she's the sweetest girl in the world. Of course Isak is with her, she looks like she'd catch a star for the person she loved if they only asked her to. “Hi, Isak! And you must be Even,” she grins, holding out her hand. Even smiles and shakes her hand. 

“Hey, Vilde. What's up?” Isak asks, and Vilde leans against the counter. 

“It’s Eva. Well, more specifically, Eva and Chris – Chris Schistad not Chris Berg. He flipped out. I mean, they’ve been broken up for ages, but for some reason he just got really upset because he walked in on her and... _somebody_. He’s been locked in our flat for hours, and Eva’s really worried about him. You’re the only one who can get through to him, Isak. You two used to be friends, right? William isn’t here so you’re our only hope. Can you please come help?”

Isak is standing, cleaning the grease and salt off of his fingers. “What kind of upset? Angry or sad or...?”

“Angry, I think.” She glances at Even, and smiles again. “I'm sorry that the first time we properly meet is all high school drama. I promise we're not all as juvenile as Chris and Isak.”

“Fuck you,” Isak whines. 

“See?” Vilde gives him a look, an exasperated look that's laced with love, one that a mother might give to a fellow mother when their kids are being rambunctious but they secretly find it overwhelmingly adorable that their kids are finger-painting their bodies green. “He's a handful. I don't know how you put up with him spending every waking hour here.”

Even shrugs, “I don't mind. He keeps me on my toes.”

“I'm not a toddler!” Isak pouts, jumping over the counter and joining Vilde. “You're both so mean to me. Why do I like either of you?”

“Please, you couldn't live without me,” Vilde grins. Isak rolls his eyes and drops a kiss to her cheek before waving to Even and following her out. 

Even sighs heavily, throwing out the leftovers of his fries and scrolling through the computer to find a new bouquet to send to Isak. He looks through The Language of Flowers, and discovers that gardenias are a symbol of secret love. He finds that there's none in stock at his shop, but there are some at a florist on the other side of Oslo. He orders a bouquet to be sent to Isak's, and then works on closing down the shop. 

 

The next afternoon, Isak comes in with a vase of gardenias and a cream colored card. Even raises his eyebrows and leans against the counter. “Another bouquet already?” He asks, and Isak nods. 

“The card is different. Usually it's on white paper. This one is, like, beige.” He puts it down on the counter and Even picks it up to read, like he wasn't the one who wrote it. 

 

_If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I._

 

Even looks up at Isak. “Montaigne. A French philosopher from the French renaissance.” 

“How do you know this shit?” Isak laughs, taking the card and looking at it. “It's a really pretty quote. Montaigne.” He looks up at Even and smiles. “Anyway. I'm here because I don't know what the fuck kind of flowers these are. They smell really good, Vilde loves the smell. She wants to buy more so she told me to ask you what kind they are.” He blushes, ducking his gaze. “Also, I was hoping you still had those floriculture books so I could see what they mean.”

Even sighs, discouraged as ever by the mention of Vilde. “Yeah, uh, they're gardenias. They're usually used in weddings and stuff. She's right, they do smell amazing.” He unlocks the divider and lets Isak come into the staff room. Isak immediately grabs The Language of Flowers and flips through the pages until he finds gardenias. 

“They mean secret love.” He looks up at Even with impatience. “Well, duh! I've known from the beginning that whoever's sending these is a secret admirer. Why can't it be a clue to who the fuck they are.” He sighs, shutting the book. Even blushes and leans against the doorframe, twirling his keys around his fingers. 

“Did, uh, did it ever cross your mind that it might be Vilde?” He offers. 

Isak looks up, confusion across his features. Even blushes harder. “Vilde? Why would Vilde send me flowers?” He asks, a lilt of laughter to his voice. Even shrugs. 

“Because she's your girlfriend?”

“What the fuck?” Isak giggles, practically doubling over in laughter. Annoyance fills Even's veins. He doesn't like that Isak is laughing at him, it makes him feel mocked. He folds his arms. “Have you thought that Vilde was my girlfriend this whole time?”

“Uh, yeah? Is that so weird? You live together and you talk about her like she hung the moon. I just...It's just the way it appeared,” he mumbles. 

“She's not my girlfriend. She's a lesbian and she has a thing for our friend, Eva.”

Even sighs, letting his shoulders droop ever so slightly. “The one that pissed off your friend Jonas by getting with that Chris guy?” Isak nods and explains that Eva might be bisexual, but that he isn't quite sure yet. “Oh. Well. Sorry for the assumption.” He flips off the light in the staff room and goes back to his position at the register. 

“Ev,” Isak says gently, putting his hand on Even's lower back. Even can't help the way that his heart jackrabbits in his chest. He turns to look at Isak. “You know I'm gay, right?” And it's the best thing Even's ever heard before in his life. He's so happy that he nearly kisses Isak right then and there, but he holds back because he's made enough of an ass of himself today and doesn't want to make it worse. 

“I do now,” Even says in a tone he hopes is casual, and starts wiping down the counter. He's sold some potted plants earlier and there was dirt all over it. “I'm bisexual, so. Yeah.”

“That's cool,” Isak says, and his voice sounds anything but casual, and Even can't discern what tone is underlying there. “Me, you, Vilde, Eva. Maybe it's true, what people say about LGBTQ people sticking together.”

“Maybe.” Even stands straight and turns back to Isak. “So. Do you think it's a guy sending the flowers?”

Isak looks startled at the change of topic, but recovers quickly. “Uh, yeah, I think so. But I don't know who? There's not that many openly gay boys in my year at school, those that are have never even really talked to me? I don't know.”

“Well, gardenias mean secret love. Maybe he's closeted.”

“Yeah, maybe. But a week or so ago, I got irises, which are for like, friendships and stuff. So it must be someone I'm friends with. And Vilde and I figured out that I got some weird ass flowers called gloxinias. Those mean love at first sight.”

Even laughs, knocking his shoulder into Isak's gently. “Maybe the person sending you the flowers aren't looking into the meanings like you think they are,” he says softly. And logically, he knows that it's stupid of him to make Isak think that it's someone besides Even sending the flowers. If he wants to be with Isak, he should be dropping hints left and right. Especially now that he knows Isak is single and that he likes boys. 

“You think so?” Isak asks, smelling the gardenias he'd brought. “Am I reading too much into it?”

“I don't know.”

Isak sighs, running his hands over the white petals of the gardenias. He freezes a little and Even watches as Isak plucks the starch white cards from behind the counter, holding it up. Even's heart leaps to his throat. “These are the same kind of cards I've been getting. Do you personalize these? Do you know who's sending them?” He asks eagerly. 

“I've already told you that I don't. There's a delivery girl who works in the mornings. She'd know more than me. I mostly work with face to face sales,” he lies. Even does do online transactions, too. But he's lying to protect himself, surely Isak would understand if he ever found out the truth. 

“Could you keep an eye out for me? Please, Even? I have to know,” Isak pleads. Even's heart hurts a little. “I'm like, dying to know who it is.”

“You're such a drama queen,” Even jokes, laughing when Isak shoves him. “That's assault. I should sue you.”

“What, you don't make enough money working this luxurious job? I've been thinking that florists make six figures.”

“I do. I live in a mansion in Beverly Hills. I have a view of the Hollywood sign from my infinity pool, and I drink the finest champagne as I fly to work everyday. I have Gucci flip flops and all.” Isak is laughing, and it makes Even's heart beat double time. He's head over heels for this boy, this boy who's secretly hoping that this secret admirer is anyone but Even, probably. The thought of Even being the one to send the flowers probably hadn't even crossed Isak's mind. “The charges would be for the principle. What kind of person would I be if I let some high school kid get away with assault?”

“The more important question is why the fuck you're living in Beverly Hills. That place has been tainted by The Kardashians. Calabasas, too. You should live in Malibu. Or San Diego!”

“Why San Diego?”

“Because that's where the greatest American television show ever to air was set.” Even is quiet for a long time, and Isak rolls his eyes, “Drake and Josh. Jeez, and you claim to be cultured.”

Even snorts, “I've never once claimed to be cultured, what the fuck?”

“Even, you watch black and white foreign films and you have a Charles Bukowski quote or a film reference ready in any situation. You also know a shit ton about the meaning of different kinds of flowers. You don't have to say you're cultured for everyone to know that you think that you're cultured.”

Even laughs so hard that tears come to his eyes, and he can faintly hear Isak giggling next to him. It's music to his ears. “You're such an ass. At least I don't pretend to be into 90s hip hop so nobody knows I like John Mayer and Justin Bieber.”

“Shut the fuck up, I've seen most of the songs from Purpose on your Spotify playlist. You can't hide the pop songs with all that Kendrick Lamar no matter how hard you try,” Isak deadpans, picking a gardenia out of the vase and chucking it at Even's face. It lands on his cheek, spattering water all over his face. Isak laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever seen. 

“Fuck you, I exclusively listen Kendrick Lamar, Chance the Rapper, Kodak Black, and Nas.” He throws the gardenia back at Isak, hitting him in the nose. “You have Wicked Game by Chris Isaak on yours. Fucking fight me.”

Isak throws the flower back, squeaking and ducking when he sees Even catch it and prepare to throw it back. “You listen to Gabrielle all the time, you fucker!” Even leans over the counter and slaps the soaking wet flower on the back of Isak's neck, before pulling back and fumbling for his keys so he can take refuge in the staff room. 

“You have Lorde! The Catching Fire soundtrack!” Even laughs, ducking as a gardenia flies by his head and sticks to the window on the staff room door. Even peels it off and pelts it back to Isak, successfully hitting him in the mouth. Even tries to get into the room in time but Isak somehow manages to materialize next to him, pulling the door closed and prying Even's keys from his fingers, locking it and tossing the keys aside. Even finds himself pressed against the door, Isak's breath hot across his face. 

Isak's eyes are blown, and Even can't breathe correctly. “Sign of the Times by Harry Styles,” Isak leers, and the gardenia ends up in Even's mouth. 

All too quickly, Isak's heat is gone and Even's body is perpetually empty without the welcome weight of Isak pressed against it. Even spits out the flower, it doesn't taste nearly as good as it smells, but he doesn't do anything back. He can't even bring himself to peel himself off of the door, his knees are shaky and his breath is evading him. His brain is swimming with so many thoughts and feelings and he blinks hard once, twice. He's intoxicated without having touched a drop of alcohol in at least three days. 

“Are you okay?“ Isak asks, and Even somehow manages to shake himself out of his stupor and at least stand up straight. 

“Yeah, I'm okay.”

 

 

Isak makes a point to be home before 21, every day. He stays with Even most days, except for Friday's because those are the days he parties with his friends if there's a party to be had, and Even closes the florist at 18. They usually go to Even's afterwards but sometimes they go to a restaurant or a park or something, however, Isak is always home before 21. He does this for many reasons, the primary one being to make sure Vilde eats before she goes to bed. Most days she does but sometimes she doesn't, and Isak needs to be there for the days she doesn't. And since he can never be sure what days will be her bad days, he resolves to never miss a day of being home on time. 

Today, he's on a tram 30 minutes from home and it's 21.38. Vilde had sent him a photo of her eating a grilled chicken caesar salad wrap, and he trusted her so he wasn't that worried, but the lingering concern was there. He cared for and loved Vilde, and he knew how much it meant to her that he cared for her so much. He suspects that Vilde hadn't gotten that sort of attention much before, the kind of attention that's raw and vulnerable, the attention that someone gives the side of you that you never wanted them to see. The attention that means, overwhelmingly, _I see you, I see you and your flaws that you want no one else to see, I see you and I love you so much anyway._

The kind of attention Even seems to give him. 

The flowers he'd been receiving had made his heart warm with the attention of an admirer, but it paled in comparison to the attention Even gave him. He always felt seen when he was with Even, seen and understood and loved. The secret admirer was nice but they would never hold a candle to Even. Even, whom he was slowly falling in love with day by day. Even, who'd never shown him any more interest than would be considered platonic. But, honestly, Isak would take Even any way Even was willing to give. Friends or more than that, whatever. Isak would rather have Even in his life as a friend than not at all. 

The tram stops and Isak gets off, leaving him with a fifteen minute walk home. He could've waited for the next tram stop, one a bit further up that would've left him with a measly five minute walk, but then he would've had to walk through a neighborhood that makes his stomach curdle like sour milk. He tucks his hands into his pockets and walks home quickly. 

He's barely made it to his building when he sees Even standing outside. He nearly calls out to say hello, but he freezes when he sees Even holding a bouquet of yellow tulips. The same kind of bouquet he'd been receiving for months now. Even walks into the building and Isak swiftly follows him, keeping his distance so Even won't see him. 

They get all the way to Isak's door, and Even holds the bouquet behind his back as he knocks on the door. Vilde answers, and he hears the disappointment in Even's voice when he reacts to Vilde saying that Isak isn't home. As soon as Vilde shuts the door, Even looks down at his bouquet with a look of discouragement and sets it down on the doormat, plucking the card out and folding it up, tucking it in his pocket. 

Isak knows what yellow tulips mean. Hopelessly in love. 

Even starts to walk away so Isak reveals himself, standing in front of him. Even's eyes widen before the older boy composes himself, running his fingers through his hair. “Oh, hey, Isak. Um. I was just coming by to see you, but Vilde said you weren't home.” He bites his lip and Isak just keeps staring. “Um, there's a new bouquet on your doorstep. Any closer to figuring out who it is?”

Isak nods slowly, and Even raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Yellow tulips mean hopelessly in love,” Isak says quietly. He notices the way Even flushes, avoiding his gaze. “It's been you all along, hasn't it?” 

Apparently his tone doesn't convey his elation, because Even is stepping back. “I-I'm sorry. I know it's so weird, and kinda creepy, and...and I'm really sorry if I've fucked up our friendship with this. That's the last thing I want to happen, I want you in my life no matter what we are, friends or–”

Isak cuts him off by crashing their lips together. Even's startled but he kisses back easily, and Isak presses closer as the older boy's hands slide to Isak's hips. Isak cradles Even's cheeks between his hands as he parts his lips for Even's tongue to get through. Even's eager to do so, licking into Isak's mouth as Isak just takes it, kisses back with all his might and takes whatever Even gives him. He'd initiated the kiss but Even quickly takes control, pressing Isak against the wall as they touch each other everywhere because they can do that now. 

They barely make it to the bedroom. 

 

Isak wakes up early in the morning to Even snoring quietly beside him. Even smells like flowers and now Isak's whole room does, too. It's like a perfume, but a more subtle one. Isak loves it, loves that Even smells so good. He presses his nose into the soft skin of Even's neck and breathes in the smell of dandelions and forget-me-not's, running his hands over the smooth expanse of Even's back, a long and soft expanse of skin that feels like flower petals under Isak's fingertips. 

Slowly, he crawls out of bed and digs into the pocket of Even's jeans which had been hastily discarded across Isak's dresser in their haste last night. He pulls out the white colored card, folded up and already frayed at the creases. Isak slips back into bed and slowly unfolds the card, reading the small printed black ink words. 

 

_I am in love with you. And I know love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we're all doomed. And that one day all our labor will be returned to dust. And I know that the sun will swallow the only earth we will ever have. And I am in love with you._

 

Isak rolls his eyes despite the fond smile crossing his face, and grabs a pillow to smack Even in the face. Even groans as he wakes up, slurring out a disoriented, “What the fuck was that for?!”

“You asshole!” Isak laughs. “You went from quoting Montaigne to quoting John fucking Green, what the fuck?!” 

Even's eyes widen in realization and he laughs, taking the pillow from Isak before he can hit Even with it again. “Hey, there's no shame in quoting a shitty writer if the line is good,” Even argues, pulling Isak down to lay flush against his chest. Isak cuddles into Even's chest without a fight, pressing a chaste kiss to Even's lips. 

“I can't believe it took us this long to get our shit together,” Isak whispers into the kiss, and Even just pulls him in for even more. They kiss languidly for what feels like eternities, until suddenly they hear the door open, followed by Vilde's shrill squealing. 

“Oh my god, I fucking knew it! I can't wait to tell Eva!”

**Author's Note:**

> feedback appreciated x


End file.
